


Surprises

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only so many ways getting tossed into the body of a werewolf can go wrong. Stiles, as is typical of his life, manages to find the most embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprises

"Stop touching me."

"What? Why? I'm not doing anything to you— Stiles says, focused on his own lap which actually isn't his own but he's currently occupying so he may as well call his. His hands go for the shirt he's wearing that also isn't his and pull it up enough to reveal a tanned, muscled stomach and he pokes a finger to it, surprised at how firm it is, until Derek grabs him roughly by the wrist and tugs it away.

" _Stop touching me_ ," Derek bites out in Stiles' voice, and it's hilarious how bad he is at sounding menacing without his usual growl.

"Oh. You meant stop touching you who I'm currently insi— _I,_ oh, yeah, wow I'm definitely not going to finish that sentence. But fine. No touching. I'll keep my hands at my sides at all times, I promise."

Derek lets go of Stiles' wrist to bring his hand back to his face and rub over his eyes, which are actually Stiles' hand, Stiles' face and Stiles' eyes. The exasperated tiredness of it makes him look old, and incredibly like the sheriff. Stiles would say it feels kind of like an out-of-body experience to witness his own family resemblance, but since it is _literally_ an out-of-body experience, he says nothing.

"Where the fuck is Scott with that book?" Derek asks, grumpy and impatient.

Normally it's Stiles' job to go out and do research, because let's face it. He's a heck of a lot better with attention to details than Scott which means he's much better suited to finding important information including, say, bodyswapping spell reversals. But he and Derek are on lockdown because getting caught while trapped in each other's bodies spells disaster no matter how you look at it.

"I'd say call him and ask, but he doesn't pick up ever, so we're kind of stuck waiting."

"I'm going to kill him," Derek says after a moment.

"That's hardly helpful."

"I'm going to kill you first."

"That'd be kinda counterproductive, don't you think?" Stiles asks, giving Derek an irritated look. He's long since stopped buying Derek's threats, and with Stiles currently in possession of the werewolf healing abilities and Derek stuck with Stiles' certainly not weak but decidedly not superpowered limbs, Derek's hardly frightening.

"Who knows. Maybe ripping your throat out is the only way to swap us out."

"That's morbid. And also really not cool," Stiles pouts, and Derek makes a face, something halfway between frustrated and uncomfortable, but he's doing it with Stiles' face and this whole thing is just really, really _weird_.

"Stop doing that," Derek says.

"I'm not doing anything," Stiles points out, because he _isn't_. He's even stopped with the curious poking.

"You're making weird faces with my face. Stop it."

"Oh my god, Derek," Stiles says, and he has to laugh. He can't not laugh. Derek Hale, broody, dark, tortured werewolf is actually a giant five year old.

Except the laugh comes out sounding like Derek because, as Stiles keeps forgetting, he's actually inside of Derek at the moment—and yeah, okay, that thought doesn't sound any better even if it's not said aloud—and Stiles hasn't actually heard Derek laugh in that kind of earnest, genuinely amused way and it. Well. It sounds nice. Really nice. It's not deep or growly, just soft and happy in a way that Stiles has never heard come from Derek. It makes his chest do an unfamiliar clenching thing at the sound of it, even as he quiets and the laughing dies in his throat.

Derek is looking at Stiles with Stiles' own eyes, wide in alarm, and suddenly his ribs feel too tight, his lungs struggling to drag in air, and then his bones start to shift and he screams.

"Fuck, Stiles, breathe, _breathe_ , it's just a shift, you're fine, you're fine," Derek is shouting over his panicked screaming, but Stiles is on the floor now, down on all fours as his skin and bones adjust and change. Derek's hands—Stiles' own hands, currently borrowed by Derek—are on him, squeezing tight over his shoulder and his neck in a calming, massaging rhythm. It doesn't take very long for the change to happen once he stops freaking out, and soon Stiles collapses down onto his belly, limbs sprawling out in all directions as he breathes hard and shakes, and he feels Derek let him go and sit down beside him.

"Jesus Christ," Derek groans, and Stiles kicks at him.

"Don't you get all exasperated on me," he says between heavy breaths. Derek just sighs, sounding long-suffering, and Stiles kicks at him again. He really wants to bring his hands up to his face, get a look at his transformed fingers and feel his way around his shifted face, but he promised he wouldn't so he doesn't. "What just happened?" Stiles asks when Derek makes no effort to explain without prompting.

"You turned yourself on."

"I. I what? No, I didn't. I _what_?" Stiles repeats, horrified.

"When you don't know how to control it, getting turned on makes you shift. Last time it happened to me, I was thirteen. Scott didn't fill you in on that stuff?"

"No, uh. He did. But. I didn't. I wasn't, uh."

Derek turns to meet his eyes, and it's with Stiles' own face, looking entertained and almost flirtatious, and it is absolutely bizarre to see his own mouth curve up in a way that is not at all Stiles and entirely, impossibly Derek.

"Apparently you were. I didn't know you liked my laugh."

Stiles very definitely does _not_ say, "I didn't know either," because that would be admitting that he does and he is so, so not going there. Derek keeps grinning at him, smug and amused anyway.


End file.
